


A Crowned Serpent

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Good Omens (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Inspired By Tumblr, Lux (Lucifer TV), M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-07-30 04:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20091172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: With the Lord of Hell refusing to return to his throne, another Lord must be found – but before all this, there needs to be a fall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A crossover between Lucifer and Good Omens, inspired by a post by “cleverlittlejay” on Tumblr. Although there will be differences as I didn't want to copy the whole idea from the post. 
> 
> https://justsimplymeagain.tumblr.com/post/186562783569/you-know-what-good-omens-x-lucifer-crossover-i

It starts with a fall, not that one – but a fall nonetheless. Because you see, the world has been saved and the Armageddon that was to be, never happened. But acts of willing disobedience can have consequences, just as much as asking the wrong questions could. Things were about to shift, in ways that were not originally planned for – or perhaps they were, but only one would know for sure. And there were no signs of those secrets being shared.

So although one played their part and played it well, there were still consequences that had to be paid. It wasn't fair, it could easily be said to be the most unjust thing to have happened for some time now. But consequences for one's actions had to be paid. And this time, it was Aziraphale – Guardian of the Eastern Gate had to pay the price.

And Fall he did. And hard.

And it will take years for the love of his life to find him once more. Because the time in Hell runs considerably different than those on Earth. But few speak of this and fewer think of this.

~*~

It was a warm day, Crowley was enjoying himself in the garden outside the lovely cottage he now lives in with Aziraphale – his angel. He never thought he would be the type to live in a cottage, but given his living companion and his other half. It was an easy adjustment. More or less, there were still disagreements. But given what they have gone through, how long it took for them to get here. It was a price he was willing to pay and something he was more than willing to go through. Even if his plants weren't as terrified as before and Aziraphale spoils them far too much and not to mention the fact that the vegetables seem to mock him. And don't get him going on the fruit. But those were problems for another time.

They chose this location because it was close to the boy they were meant to be watching over but didn't due to a mess up at the start where babies were swapped around wildly. Not Crowley's fault, he will forever claim this and feel satisfied in the fact that he was right. The kids, boringly dubbed “The Them” often come over and steals moments of their time. Good kids, the Them. Good heads on their shoulders, good hearts in their chests. Aziraphale seemed fond of them as well, often having treats set aside for their visits. He often winds up helping them with homework or going over their projects with them when a parents perspective wasn't quite needed. Crowley pitches in sometimes, often he just enjoys laying about and watching the whole thing from his spot in the sun. Anathema would visit at times, sometimes she would bring Newt and sometimes she didn't. Crowley spoke to her once about their plans on moving to South Down and having a cottage there eventually.

Things were good, but like all things – they must come to an end.

Because on a warm, perfect day – Crowley was standing at the gate to their property handing vegetables in bags to the Them to take home to their parents, something he would deny doing if asked – an explosion was heard. Knocking him forward hard enough that he knocked down the gate. It was enough to disorient him and it would be this alone that would tell him that it wasn't a natural earthly bound explosion. It was something far far worse, it was something Heavenly bound. Looking around, he noticed that the Them were all on the ground, scared and Adam was the first to get to his feet. First to try and rush towards the burning cottage, burning everything.

Crowley stopped him. Antichrist or not, he was just a boy and Crowley couldn't let him run into something like that.

But -

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called out as he managed to get his bearings enough be able to do more than just stand there holding a kid back. Behind him, he could hear whispers of panic and in the distance the sound of sirens. Pushing forward he ran right into the house, not afraid of the flame just afraid of what he'd find. It took him less than a few moments to get to the place he last has seen Aziraphale, where he was reading one of his first editions and listening to music with a hot cup of tea. The whole area was destroyed but all he could focus on was the flames and how white feathers were floating down and burning as they went.

“No.” It was all Crowley could say, repeatedly. Eventually, he had to leave as the cottage started to collapse around him and water started to be doused on the remains of the life he created with Aziraphale. Plucking a feather as it floated down, he did what he could do to stop it from burning. He felt his eyes water at the sight, blamed it on the smoke. It was the only thing he could rescue from the fire as he fled the cottage. Humans tried to talk to him, but he only brushed them off and got in his Bentley and drove off. Tried to feel a little less guilty about seeing the kids distraught, thinking for a second if that that perhaps he should have stayed with them for a few minutes. But he couldn't.

He couldn't because Aziraphale was gone. Their home, gone. His light.

So all he could do at the moment was drive and this time he wound up driving faster than 90 and eventually screaming in anger as he tried to come up with what happened. Only stopping when he was out of town and away from people did he pull his Bentley to the side and proceeded to yell at the stars. His stars, her stars. Demand answers, curse everything that was involved in taking Aziraphale away from him. He cursed, and screamed and felt himself shatter as he collapsed on the ground. Shielding himself with his own wings and trying to pretend that they were Aziraphale's.

For weeks he searched for answers, drove well past 90 and cursed the stars and threw rocks at the sky.

~*~

Sometime between then and a coffee shop, Crowley finds out what happened. And he finds out because he crossed paths with the Archangel Gabriel who just happened to have been meeting with none other than Crowley's old boss, Beelzebub. It would be from them, or more correctly from Gabriel in a rather smug gloating manner that Crowley would learn what really happened with Aziraphale.

He was taken and he has fallen.

Aziraphale was in Hell.

Of course, he couldn't take the sound of that smug gloating, couldn't stomach the sight of the archangel before him so Crowley did the one thing he could think of and that was lash out. Not too badly, but he did manage to knock the smug archangel onto the table behind him and hard enough to displace it despite it being fastened to the floor successfully giving him a nice shiner to go with the bleeding nose before taking off. He had to go to Hell, had to go find Aziraphale. Had to bring him back to Earth. He didn't deserve to be in Hell. He didn't notice the shocked and contemplative expression on his old boss's face. If he did, it wouldn't have mattered as he pushed his way into the office building and down into Hell.

Of course, a few demons tried to stop him and a few shied away from him remembering the act Aziraphale put on in his place.

It didn't matter, he just kept pushing on.

It would be from Hastur that he learns where the newly fallen angel was kept. And it would be to Hastur's mocking tone that Crowley reveals just another piece of himself. His wings, shiny and well kept, black and intact unlike most. Spreading them wide and making himself bigger. Whispers carried through the hallways, but that didn't matter. Not to Crowley, the only thing that did was that it got him to the room where Aziraphale was. Fear took him as he reached for a dingy doorknob. Fear at what he would find, fear for Aziraphale and for himself. Fear for what they had, Hell has a way of taking and taking and taking if you weren't strong enough to hold on. At least for their kind, for humans it was different. But that was entirely important at the moment, not with the prospect of who's on the other side of the door.

Would he remember Crowley?

Would he remember himself?

“Az- Aziraphale?” Crowley whispered through the door, leaning against it as he tried to listen and hear what his angel was doing. In the back of his mind, he could picture so many disgusting deformations and painful sores, so many horrible things. And when he opened the door, managed to work the nerve up he was shocked by the lack of rot. It was Aziraphale, but exposed wings spoke of greys and blacks more so than the beautiful swan white they used to be, hair no longer the white Crowley was familiar with but it was him, although too dirty to get a proper read on colour. Fallen or not, it was Aziraphale and Crowley could feel him and it felt like finding a piece of home.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley's voice sounded more confident this time around, at least he had that going for him. It took a moment before those wings twitched and the curled up angel showed any sign of hearing him and replied, “Crowley?” He almost wept with joy at hearing the recognition in that welcoming voice.

“I fell... I... I hurt. It hurts.” And just like that, Crowley wanted to break down and rage once more.

“I know. I know.” And he does, he fell too. He remembers it like yesterday and carefully, cautiously he inched closer to Aziraphale. Gently taking his angel's face in hand, making him look up. His eyes were different, like his only more feline then serpent.

It would be considerably later when Crowley gets Aziraphale back on Earth, cleaned up and tucked into bed. Anathema was kind enough to open her guest room to them. She wouldn't likely see much of Aziraphale, he was touchy and not in a mood to deal with anyone. Or anything, Crowley was grateful that his angel seemed to be perfectly fine with his presence. It could have very well-proven therapeutic for both of them as they curled together on the admittedly smaller bed then either preferred.

It would be in this bed that Crowley let himself grieve and familiarize himself with new features and scents. Hair no longer white, but black at the roots and grey by ends. Hints of white remain, but only hints. It would be the wings that would take him the longest to get used to, but at the end of the day this was Aziraphale and the angel – fallen or otherwise – was his and he was Aziraphale's. And he said as much.

~*~

It would be a year before they have a new place before life truly seems to carry on for them. A year filled with dealing with aches and pains, old for Crowley and new for Aziraphale. Paperwork that needed to be filed and dealt with and angels to watch out for as well as demons. Crowley's rescue no doubt stirred things up and Aziraphale falling might have disrupted something.

There were whispers, that some angels mourned the loss of one of their own. More because of the act and the memories it brought on then it was for the angel himself. Not that it mattered entirely to Crowley, Aziraphale was here and he was now safe and he, for the most part, remembered what he needed to. There were gaps but easily filled with soft words and truths.

Now that Aziraphale was a demon and one that could purr if the situation calls for it, Aziraphale was also more openly petty if the situation calls for it. But the core of him remains the same, still hedonistic and fond of material things and fond of Crowley. He did mourn the loss of his books and their old home but seemed to be more or less okay with moving on. Building a new collection and making a new place home. The prospect of moving to South Down sooner was on the table, with reassurances to the Them and Anathema that they would visit and that there would be rooms available for them should they make their way out to visit.

It would be mid-August that a knock on their door would throw their calming down lives into turmoil once more. But in another way, one that Crowley would have never predicted.

After all, who would have expected the Princes of Hell to knock on his door – and politely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that I wrote Lucifer right. This is my first time dabbling with this character.

There was a man playing the piano at a nightclub called Lux, looks to be in the prime of his life – however, he was a man who was retired and has been for the past four years. Not many would believe him in this regards, after all, who would be able to believe that the very devil owns and operates a nightclub and lives in the city of angels? But, here he was and going blatantly by his own name – Lucifer Morningstar.

Life was good for this devil.

He owned his nightclub through mostly legal means and he was surrounded by rather lovely people for the most part. And that wasn't even including his at times constant stream of lovers, no life truly was good for him. Lucifer wouldn't trade all of this for his old throne. And Lucifer wouldn't trade his life on Earth for a chance to go home, not with the cost or with the conflict he knows he should expect. He wasn't viewed too kindly by most if not all, and he was mostly okay with that. He had friends, a brother and a demon to be with and that makes things easier. Not to mention he has a nephew now, adorable little thing even though kids were not really his thing. There was only one exception besides his nephew. And that was the clever little urchin – Trixie Espinoza, daughter of Chloe Decker and Dan Espinoza.

It was her mother that drew his attention the most, but given who Chloe was and how she truly was good – who could blame him? Yes, things were turbulent at times but worthwhile and he wouldn't go back and change a thing. Not even when she realized that he was telling the truth about being the devil, her acceptance didn't come easy. But in the end, she did accept him and was glad that she took the time to come to accept him. Linda helped plenty, saving them from potentially months of heartbreak and loneliness.

In the end, she kind of enjoyed being in on it when they were dealing with cases. Something that he was immensely pleased with.

So, needlessly said, life was good.

Unfortunately, just because life was good, didn't mean he was free from boring nights. Boring like tonight, but then with the constant threat of shooters at clubs his regulars stayed away and nobody was staying long. Which is why he sent his dancers home, a full payment for the day, but there was little reason to have them around when there wasn't a full house to entertain. There were some people still, but mostly keeping to themselves and getting drunk. He was sitting at his piano, playing a tune here and there and sometimes singing sometimes humming. It depended on the song, he wondered if the detective had a case or something so he could have something to do. Looking around discreetly he didn't even see anyone worth paying any attention to.

Footsteps approaching him from the right promised a moment's entertainment. Especially when the young man said,  
“Boss, uh? There's some weird people demanding entry to as they put it have an audience with you...” A bartender said, he was on break – smoking, something Lucifer did suggest the man put a stop to. Those things can kill a human and this bartender was a good guy. But that was hardly something to pay mind to when there's potential for entertainment outside.

“Really? Well, why don't you go and escort them in? It's a slow night, I have time to provide an audience.” Lucifer declared, waving the young boy off as he picked up his drink and watched as the bartender exit the building. Taking a sip, something he probably shouldn't have done when he barely caught himself spitting it back out when he saw who entered the nightclub as though they were important and perhaps in some small way they were.

The Princes of Hell. Beelzebub taking lead.

Cursing under his breath, he stood up and whistled loudly. Telling every human to leave, don't worry about paying off their tabs tonight. It's on the house. He just wants them to leave. Once every human was gone, and his employees sent home for the night, a full night pay promised he turned his attention to the Princes who were supposed to be in Hell running the show. Sure things were probably chaotic since the flop of an Armageddon, but that was hardly his fault. Especially when he finds that he likes that it failed and likes being here on Earth. Think about all the things he would have missed out on if things happened as planned.

“Lord, we have come to ask you to return to Hell.” Beelzebub spoke kindly as they bowed slightly, every move they made was respectful and the princes followed. Flies buzzed and idly Lucifer wondered how enraged the demon before him would be if he bought a bottle of raid?

“Really?” They should read that as an outright no, but they won't. Not if they all came here to personally request his return. Something he doesn't want to do, because then that means he would have to leave his life behind and he wasn't exactly prepared to do that, especially when he enjoys his life as is. He listened as any good leader would to their problems and how bad things have gotten since the failed Armageddon, perking up slightly at the glossed over failed trial of the traitor. And speaking of an angel falling.

Something he remembers happening but this time as a distant spectator.

~*~

A year before the princes showed up at his nightclub, Lucifer was sitting on the patio of a rather lovely restaurant with three of the four members of the tribe as they called themselves, Ella had to stay homesick. It was originally supposed to be just a treat, he wasn't supposed to actually stick around because this was a girls night out as he understood it but they talked him into it and he liked their company and it seemed that they liked his. And there didn't even have to be sex involve for all of them to have a good time, and with them all knowing who he was he was free to share a little bit more insight.

It was certainly different seeing them all in such a loose carefree mood.

If only things stayed that way. But the weather changed abruptly, got hotter and then colder faster than what was normal. His human friends were all confused by it, not sure what to make of the weather and idly joking. Or trying to, they must have seen his instant change of mood. Mazikeen stood up as well, approaching the railing and trying to figure out what she was feeling. She was a demon and never fell. So she doesn't fully know what to expect nor does she know how it would feel.

Lucifer, on the other hand, does.

And he was gripping the railing, and hard. He knew what was coming and stared up into the skies with accusations and questions in his look. He was aware that there was eyes on him. Questions on whether or not he's okay. None of which were answered, not as the sky lit up with what looked like a meteor going through the night sky.

“Lucifer?” He didn't know which one called his name, but he hardly paid any mind as he watched as the night sky goes dark once more. Three seconds longer than a normal meteor would take to burn out.

“Are you okay?” Linda asked, this time placing herself within his view so he could see that it was her and focus on her question to some degree. Something he couldn't quite do because he could feel his realm, his kingdom as one might say open up and swallow another angel. Closing his eyes, he couldn't help but remember the burning, the fear and anger and the screams. Oh, those he could remember the most. He could remember the pain as everything burned up from inside out. He could barely put words to – it.

His Fall.

He could feel that burning now, his name being called in alarm and only faintly aware that he was laughing almost hysterically in a distraught manner he would have never expected out of himself.

“What was that?” Chloe would later ask him when things calm down and they were all back at the table. Food untouched and the joking light carefree mood was gone.

He made a bitter sound before taking a sip of his drink before answering, “That my dear detective, was an angel falling.” He would speak more about it later when his moods were more contained and controlled. But at the moment – he just wanted to forget.

~*~

“Hell needs a King. It needs you -” Beelzebub stated, they were so sure of their words and Lucifer could only frown as he listened. Something they should be grateful for, him listening to them after they so rudely sought him out here on Earth and in his own nightclub rather than sending a request for a proper meeting elsewhere and surely they should have been capable of keeping order. There is seven of them after all, who needs a king when you have princes and dukes running the show? And before the Armageddon, doing a decent job at it.

Just because of one mess, they came crawling back to him. Trying to get him to leave his own life behind, leave the people important to him behind. That was unacceptable.

“No.” A simple word that held a lot of weight, and should be accepted at face value. But wasn't, because they tried to reason with him. An act that only proved quickly anger him. Anger him so much that his wings spread to their full size as he stood as tall as he could over them declaring that they do not have any grounds or rights to come and tell him what to do. He was their Lord, their King. He decides when it's time to go back to Hell and when he doesn't.

Eventually, they left and Lucifer polished off a few bottles of whiskey and wine before his mood started to improve slightly.

By the next morning when he gets a call from Chloe his mood was considerably better, so with the thought of a murder to solve and the freedom to spend some time with his favourite detective he completely puts the visit with the princes of Hell behind him and focuses completely on his current company and the case that they have to solve.

He would never come to expect how his denial would backfire on him in the future, and why should he when he was too busy living in the here. When the thought of going back to Hell was far from something he wanted to do. After all, why would he trade everything he has now for what he had in Hell?


	3. Chapter 3

“What?” Was this a joke? Not one, but all Princes of Hell showing up to his door and not only knocking politely and asked to be let in instead of demanding or pushing their way into his home as they would have a lifetime ago it felt like. 

“We have important matters to speak with you, matters that are best not spoken out in public.” Beelzebub replied as they patiently waited on him to grant them entrance. Aziraphale now stood not too far away from him, curiosity driving him to check out what was going out. His book no doubt set aside and temporarily forgotten in the garden where Crowley was spending a peaceful morning with his angel – fallen or otherwise. It would be Aziraphale who suggested that he should put some tea on and set some biscuits out. 

Which gave Crowley a good idea of what the answer should be, opposite to what he might have wanted to say and that was fuck off. After everything, it would be at least some of what they deserved. But instead, he followed Aziraphale and swung the door open and stepped out of the way, silently inviting them in. They accepted with Beelzebub in the lead. Always in the lead. Crowley directed them to the dining room where he could hear Aziraphale fretting over the kettle and some teacups. 

This was going to be interesting. 

Crowley watched as they all picked their seats, none at the head of the table. Odd. Aziraphale must have thought so as well as he gave Crowley a brief questioning look, no one else would have caught it as well. Over the years, Crowley and Aziraphale became quite good at having full conversations with few words. Their arrangement and survival was a big part of that and the years they knew each other only seemed to add to how well they can communicate – at least when they were on the same page. When they weren't their communication skills were terrible, worse than terrible. The Armageddon that didn't come to pass was one of the biggest examples of when they weren't on the same page as well as they have been other times. 

Crowley sat at the head of the table, Aziraphale at his side after the table was finished being set and tea served with the biscuits. Their knees touching underneath the table, it provided Crowley with much-needed comfort and security for this conversation, whatever the conversation was going to be about. 

“What brings you to our home?” It wasn't just Crowley's home, it was Aziraphale's and he felt that everyone in the room needed to understand that and understand it fast. They seemed to, or at least they opted to acknowledge it by thanking them both for their time and the tea. This was a really surreal situation and Aziraphale seemed to be as unnerved as Crowley. 

“A matter of great importance.” One Prince spoke, one Crowley barely deals with given that he often answered to Beelzebub the most. So he looked to them to elaborate, which they did with a calm, “Hell has no one on the throne, hasn't since the failed Armageddon.” There was a little accusation in their voice, still angry but deeming it best to not direct that at Crowley or Aziraphale. But to hear that Hell has no one on the throne was odd, where was Satan? Crowley wondered if he should be fearing for his life right about now given how angry their Lord was that day. 

“My apologies, but why come here if that were the case? Should you not be searching for your Lord?” Aziraphale questioned, reminding Crowley of a conversation they had a few months ago. 

~*~

They were sitting in their living room, Aziraphale was reading and Crowley was curled up at his side on his mobile phone playing games. They had Anathema over earlier, the kitchen freshly cleaned from the evidence of the dinner they had with her. Aziraphale was clearly pleased that despite what he was now, not much has changed. Granted, he might have forgotten for a moment that she hit the Bentley. But that was a minor thing because Aziraphale remembered most of their interaction with the human witch. 

“A comment was made about my being a – well a demon today. More like a question.” Aziraphale suddenly said, filling the silence. Crowley immediately set the phone down and facing Aziraphale who seemed to be reluctant to look up from his book. His angel was still a ball of nerves sometimes. They both had their moments in that regard. Plucking the book out of Aziraphale's hands, he had his angel face him. 

“What about it?” Crowley wondered briefly if he should go pick a fight with the only one who knew about Aziraphale and what he was and the only one who was in contact with them today, more correctly here for dinner. Or he should go break her bike in a thousand pieces and put it back together in a way that would make it near impossible to be comfortable using if she was able to use it at all. The possibilities were endless. 

“Nothing bad, my dear. Just asking on how or if it changes things.” Aziraphale tried to reassure, no doubt knew Crowley's thought process. 

“What things?” Crowley demanded, wanting so baldy to know just so he knew just how to respond in kind. 

“Us. Our former sides, how it all fits together now.” Aziraphale explained, probably not saying as much as what was said for Crowley's sake. His angel was always trying to protect him in equal measures. Before Crowley could reassure or remind Aziraphale that they didn't have 'our' sides anymore Aziraphale continued, “My being a demon doesn't change the fact that we're on our side, right? I don't have to be an angel for that, do I?” Crowley's heart clenched at that. 

“Don't need any side but us, we're on our side. Angel or not, that doesn't change. Just means they lost the only good angel there was. That's on them.” Crowley stated firmly and spent a good portion of the evening in Aziraphale's lap reassuring and making sure that Aziraphale knew that demon or not he was Crowley's angel and Crowley's demon. He was Crowley's and nothing else mattered but that. 

Yes, yes – they were on their own side. Former sides be damned. 

~*~

Crowley almost spat out his tea at the explanation they were given, they did search for Satan and they found him at a nightclub in LA and he refused to return to his throne. Which doesn't exactly explain why they were nowhere, and why they were coming to Crowley with this problem. He wasn't employed by them anymore, he wasn't on their side and hasn't been for a long time despite only being free from them since the Armageddon that didn't happen. 

“A nightclub?” Crowley had to be sure he heard this correctly because it was such an odd choice and yet it made perfect sense given who they were talking about. Eyeing each and every one of the Princes and glancing at Aziraphale to see what he thought of the whole mess. Aziraphale seemed to be feeling the same thing as he was. So nothing new there. 

“Yes.” They confirmed, irritation in their voices. It sounded a bit odd and surreal to have them all answering his questions at once. 

“In the city of Angels, LA?” Why there? Of all the places to go. 

“Yes.” Once more, they confirmed and Crowley had to sit back and marvel at this new information. At least for a moment. 

“O-kay, but why come to me about this? There's plenty of Princes and Dukes to keep things running. Why not wait him out, he'll get bored or something and have no choice but to return.” Crowley finally said, crossing his arms and letting his tea and biscuit that he wouldn't even eat anyway sit forgotten before him. Aziraphale's plate was empty and the Princes plates were half empty. They weren't fond of eating, but later Crowley would realize that they were really trying to curry favour in this conversation with being polite and drinking the offered tea and eat the biscuits they were given. 

“We can't wait that long. Hell needs a King.” The fact that the Princes felt that it needed a King now to restore order was left unsaid and it left Crowley the impression that things must be more chaotic and uncontrolled then they were letting on. What they haven't explained yet was why they were coming to Crowley. Why they felt that it was Crowley who should replace Satan – better known apparently these days as Lucifer – on the throne and why that had to be now. His expression must have made his need to know clear to them. 

“We know who you were before you fell. We found out not too long ago after your companion fell.” Beelzebub for once seemed almost hesitant to continue, especially after Crowley tightened his grip on his chair. Aziraphale wasn't even told. His voice seemed to be trapped in his throat and his emotions felt like a hurricane inside of him as he fought hard to appear as the centre of that very storm. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, trying to keep his concern and curiosity unheard and failing miserably at it. Everyone in the room must have realized that the former angel didn't know, that Crowley never spoke of his time before being a demon. 

“That was a long time ago.” Those words echoed in Crowley's mind, the bandstand, the break-up. Crowley wanted to go for a drive, go anywhere but here. 

“Even so. We would like you to be our King.” Beelzebub stated, standing up and bowing down to Crowley, the other Princes followed their example. Crowley was only faintly aware of them, most of his attention was on Aziraphale who had that look that told him that a conversation was definitely needed in the near future. Crowley just hoped that it wouldn't damage the relationship they built over the years. One they fought for and deserve over everything else. 

It was going to be a difficult conversation; made so with emotions of betrayal, of matters long since buried, deception on his part and facing who and what he used to be. Would he be accepted, when Aziraphale finds out that he wasn't just a lowly angel who asked questions when he shouldn't have?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this. And quick question, do you want a chapter with Aziraphale's POV?

Crowley didn't give them an answer, in fact, he promised them to have one by tomorrow. But right now, a conversation had to happen and Aziraphale seemed to wholeheartedly agree as he offered to wrap up their biscuits for them to take with them. It was denied, as politely as possible for demon's who were often the ones casting out orders and making decisions. Crowley just tossed the leftovers in the garbage once the door was closed behind them leaving him alone with Aziraphale and fully aware of those feline eyes following his every move as he paced their home trying to find words to start the conversation or find ways to explain it in a manner that didn't risk damaging their relationship. One that was earned after 6000 years.

“Crowley.” Who knew his name could be so heavy with so many questions and so much confusion.

It should have been an invitation to start the conversation but it was declined as he picked up a spray bottle and tended to his new plants. Not quite as terrified as his old ones, Aziraphale even as a demon wouldn't allow him to be too strict with them. He could hear a sigh before Aziraphale followed after him all the while saying, “Crowley? What in Hea- what are they talking about?”

Hissing quietly, Crowley put up as many walls as he could between himself and Aziraphale – which turned out to be none. So his glasses went on instead and he tried to ignore the hurt that flashed through Aziraphale in the eyes, eyes that were no longer blue but still beautiful and earnest and Aziraphale's.

“I never lied to you. Let that be known, not once did I lie to you about who I am. I'm just Crowley, Anthony J Crowley.” Crowley insisted, not quite pacing but the urge to move was there.

“I know this, I never asked you to be anyone but who you are. But I need to know what they are talking about. I don't want to be left in the dark here, not by you.” Aziraphale's tone was soft and his angel was trying his hardest to be as reassuring as possible as he stepped into Crowley's personal space. Spray bottle left forgotten in hand. No action was taken to remove his glasses or to touch him, Aziraphale understood how much Crowley hated when people did that so often the angel now demon would look for signs that it would be okay and most of the time it was. Now was not one of those times. This conversation, facing facts and looking into a time so long ago it would have been better to just bury it forever has left Crowley feeling antsy like his body was too small and his skin too tight.

“W-” Crowley started, growling lowly when his words caught in his throat, his body should know better than to trap his words like this. With a mental reprimand he started, “When you were first taken, when you fell – I went looking for you.”

“I know this dear boy, but what does it have to do with who they said you were before you fell.” Aziraphale's voice was as gentle as the former angel could make it. It caused Crowley to ache more than it should have.

“Everything. I lost some carefully constructed control. I punched your old boss, as pleasurable as it was, I shouldn't have because a lowly demon shouldn't have left a mark on an Archangel. I charged into Hell and I made it known just how – just how powerless Hastur is in comparison to me and to do that all I had to do was spread my wings. A demon might take good care of their wings, but they're rarely intact because – because your wings reflect your state of mind, your power, your status. They are just that important. They can tell someone a great deal about someone's identity.” Crowley explained, going so far to tell him that his wings never changed as others have. Sure they took on some attributes over the years, if one were to look closely they might find scales mixed with his secondary coverts.

“You said lowly demon, Crowley please tell me where you're going with this?” Aziraphale seemed to focus on that and perhaps it was a good thing, it would keep this conversation from dragging on as Crowley wanted it so he could put off talking about who he wasn't anymore. Rubbing his face, Crowley could only groan and say a few curses under his breath in both dead languages and English.

With a bitter sound and a low hiss filled with an accusation, Crowley could only say, “But I wasn't. I'm not. I never was, may have been told to go up and cause trouble but I was never ordered to do it. The orders came later, came after a throne was claimed and identity was forgotten by everyone but me.” Crowley took a few steps back before continuing, “I wasn't just a little angel who just got caught up in a mess. I asked questions when I wasn't supposed to, and who I was made those questions dangerous. I was his equal in some ways, before the fall and after. For all purposes, I could have easily laid claim to the throne and ruled...”

“Hell.” Aziraphale cut in, finishing his sentence. His tone was off, mind no doubt racing to understand what's been said so far.

“Yes.”

“You were an Archangel.” Aziraphale questioned, earning a nod and watched as Aziraphale was thinking over the facts and no doubt grasping for names on who Crowley used to be.

“Raphael, my name was Raphael. But that's not -” Crowley stated, meaning every word he was trying to say.

“Were you going to ever tell me?” Aziraphale cut him off, Crowley fought not to flinch back at that because in all honesty he probably wouldn't have said a word. Would have been happy to just go on and be Anthony J Crowley, formally known as Crawly. Aziraphale looked like he wanted to take a step forward and back into Crowley's personal space but instead took a step back and Crowley fought hard not to follow him.

“That's not who I am, hasn't been for over 6000 years now. I'm just Crowley, just Anthony J Crowley because that's the name I picked for myself.” Crowley insisted even as Aziraphale left the room. Not that he could blame him, it was a lot to take in and it was a lot to accept. Crowley may not have lied, but he omitted and that could have been just as bad. With a sigh, he continued to spray his plants down giving Aziraphale some time to grasp everything and think things through. The temptation to sleep for a century was almost too good to resist.

~*~

It would be morning by the time Aziraphale approached Crowley once more. Nothing was said beyond offering a cup of coffee and sitting on the couch next to him.

“Would you have ever told me?” Aziraphale's voice was soft, there was hurt there that the implication he wasn't trusted enough for Crowley to tell him was hanging in the air and Crowley picked it up quicker than he spotted the signs that his angel might have been crying at the fact that he wasn't trusted with the knowledge of who Crowley used to be. How would they come away from this intact? Looking up at the ceiling for a moment he almost wanted to ask her for help but refrained and focused on Aziraphale. How could he ask her for anything when she allowed her best angel to fall so incredibly recently it was unforgivable.

With a sigh, he answered, “No.” He tried to ignore the utter hurt look Aziraphale gave him.

Honesty it was.

“And not because I didn't trust you, you are the only being – angel – demon now that I can trust completely and without restraint. I didn't tell you because, well because it would mean facing a lot of things that I didn't want to. Face the fact that I still had faith in her then, still loved my siblings even after I fell. But, the feeling wasn't mutual and I was put - I was betrayed. I felt increasingly betrayed until I – until I gave myself a full name and locked everything behind a door and – and well, there was you.” Crowley explained, trying to keep the simmering anger and hurt and everything else under control.

“Me?” There was surprise there, Crowley wanted to fight everyone who made his angel be surprised at such a thing. That he would be one of the deciding things for Crowley to want to be who he was now rather than who he was then.

“Why would I want to go back to that when I could be just – well, just me. Me and you.” Crowley made sure his voice was as even as he could make it. Keep the hopeful feeling that Aziraphale would go with what's being said now so Crowley wouldn't lose what they had. He was a selfish being, there was no doubt about that.

“Our side.” Aziraphale stated and Crowley's heart jumped.

“Yes! _Our_ side, why would I want a betrayer and an abandoner over you? Being in touch with that would take away with what I have now. So I was – am simply Anthony J Crowley. Just me.” Crowley was desperate for Aziraphale to just accept this, to let things go and let them move on from here. But he knew that not all of that would happen, not now and he cursed the Princes for this even though he knew it wasn't completely their fault. And he was right, Aziraphale point-blank told him that he couldn't go back to just being Anthony J Crowley, not now. But what did surprise him was that Aziraphale promised that him being open about who he used to be didn't stop him from being who he was. Demon or not, his angel was still an angel.

But there was a promise, one he doesn't deserve but will greedily hold onto. That Crowley won't lose Aziraphale. But no more lies by omissions. No more secrets. Not between them.

“Do you want to take them up on their offer, our side or not, do you want to?” Aziraphale asked as he helped prepare lunch for the two of them. Simple sandwiches, but it would be enough to satisfy Aziraphale. Crowley thought long and hard on that one, but eventually, he answered that yes he would but not for power. He knows without a king, Hell would eventually lose control given the chaos it was already in. And Crowley would do things his way.

“Would you leave me here?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, and if you don't want me to say yes then I'll say no.” Crowley tried to sound nonchalant about it but was slightly failing especially as he was pulled into a hug and being covered by wings. He promised into Aziraphale's shoulder that even if he did say yes, it wouldn't change the fact that in the end, it was still just them.

“Our side.”

“Yes...”

Always their side.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting anything that could have happened from there especially the neediness he felt vibrating between them. Cursing lightly, he reluctantly extracted himself from his angel to answer the door aware that Aziraphale was right behind him equally as annoyed.

The Princes.

They needed an answer. Crowley eyed them cautiously, for once glasses not on his face and nothing white in his eyes as he looked them over. He looks over at his angel, the answer wasn't no so long as it was just them in the end regardless of everything else. It was.

A grin slowly formed on his lips, curling further as he watched the Princes move in anticipation to whatever his answer would be.

“Yes.” Little did they know, Crowley would be making some changes.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the years, one would think that Lucifer Morningstar would be the most knowledgeable about consequences. You commit crimes, you get arrested. You commit heinous acts and die, you go to Hell. You rebel, you get cast out of Heaven. Yes, one would think that Lucifer would know all about consequences. And normally, he would agree with you. He would even be one of - if not the first - to preach it. And perhaps, his confidence in this let one thing slip past him. Or perhaps it was his pride or even his arrogance, both of which he still has despite his growing maturity. 

That very thing was that he too was susceptible to consequences just like everyone else. 

This came to his attention one day during an investigation. It started off just like any other, coming into work and greeting the few he likes and the few he enjoys poking while snatching up the pudding and meeting up with his most favourite detective of them all. One he just happens to love, something that came out of nowhere for him and something he didn't expect in the slightest. The victim was male, mid-twenties and from the looks of the crime scene his detective showed him – was mauled by something. 

As the weeks gone one, three more victims showed up showing the same injuries. However, much to his concern and Chloe's distress the victims were getting younger no older than sixteen. 

The fourth victim was fifteen, but this time there was a foul stench of sulphur in the air and Lucifer distracted Chloe enough that he could go explore it on his own. She knew of course, what he was and who he was, but even so, there were still aspects he wasn't really ready for her to see. She's seen his wings, she's seen his true face. But there was so much more to him and to what he was then that. There was his kingdom, his kind – the fallen and the demons. The foul scum-sucking things that follow his command on a good day. No, there were things he'd rather she didn't see. 

There was cackling. 

The scent grew worse and the sound of footsteps scurried on the ground. He smiled, wicked and wide baring far too many teeth to be friendly as his eyes flashed red. He greeted the demon – discovered only to be one of the lowest ranks present. The interns one could say. It startled at seeing him, not expecting it of course. Even better. He grinned down at it, it's slouched slender form slinking away from him. It barely passed for a human. It was a miracle he hasn't found it sooner. 

He wanted to know why it was here. What was Beelzebub doing sending nothings up for nothing more than murder? 

“Hello, demon.” He greeted, confidently striding closer keeping an ear out for more and for the detective. This was the only one so far and Chloe wasn't anywhere near. 

“Lucifer.” That came to a surprise, no royal greeting or humbled grovelling. Nothing in the form of respect. He frowned, bringing that to the demon's attention in regards to its lack of respect only to find himself thoroughly insulted as it laughed like he said a funny joke. It even seemed to double over almost as it needed the wall to support itself. 

And Lucifer was reminded of another trait he thoroughly owns. 

A temper. 

The demon didn't last long and died screaming and he was only slightly satisfied. He didn't get an answer on why he was treated like he was just another one of the guys instead of the King he was. Or is. It would be weeks later that he finally gets around to finding another demon – oily toad-like thing, Hastur he believed its name was – that he finds out the truth. But he doesn't get much more than a blunt, you're no longer the King. We have someone else and before Lucifer could retaliate or question it further, the demon fled. 

Was that a joke? 

Was he the centre of some big joke? 

Were the demons under his command just trying to tempt him back to Hell? And horribly he might add. He decides it's this one and goes on with his life. That was until Beelzebub was found on his patio. Fly hat and ridiculous outfit and as serious as ever. He eyed them calmly, opting to show a little respect this time around and gave a nod as a greeting and was mollified when it was returned. He indicated that the Prince was free to enter as they wished, and entered they did. The buzzing in the air was barely noticeable. But it was there and with it came the faint stench of rot and decay. 

“Fallen Angel – Lucifer, it has come to my attention that you were not notified of your position change.” Beelzebub stated calmly as they took a few confident steps forward taking the surroundings into consideration with thinly veiled disapproval. Almost like they were judging Lucifer for giving up a throne for – this. Like they could even understand the improvements this was in comparison. What a joke, he would rather have his penthouse then watching over the damned constantly day in and out for years after long years. 

But that was hardly the point at the moment. 

“My what?!” Lucifer demanded, not quite believing what he was hearing. Not at first, there was a scroll with an official stamp on it in their hand and Lucifer almost wanted to snatch it and read it then and there. But he didn't. 

“You were hereby demoted from King of Hell to that of -” Beelzebub started to explain. Or was trying to, but Lucifer found it hard to listen when he found himself getting angry and insulted. He didn't have time to feel anything else, this was something he was definitely going to have to talk to Linda about later or Amenadiel. 

“What?! What on Earth are you talking about, demoted!” Lucifer demanded almost spitting out the word demoted, not afraid to get into the face of the almost amused Prince before him. He knew Beelzebub was no slouch, don't take the small stature into consideration. But they were nothing to Lucifer and he knows this so he was both amused and insulted at the lack of backing down in the Prince's posture. 

“We asked you to return, you did not. So we looked elsewhere. This will explain everything that needs to be explained. When finished, sign it and burn it. It will be put into your personal file.” Beelzebub explained, almost smiling as they held the scroll out to him. He took it and was almost tempted to lash out but found Beelzebub gone the second he touched the scroll. There was no sign that they were there in the first place. Lucifer poured himself a drink and opened it. He found himself in a state of disbelief. 

Crawly! Or Crowley these days, that low-life lazy lying backstabbing treacherous demon was now the King! He was a nobody as far as Lucifer was concerned, oh sure he knew who he used to be before he fell. But that was hardly the point. And yet, that was exactly the point. Who better than another fallen Archangel to take the throne? 

It would take two cases of alcohol from his own collection and the clubs to get his mind wrapped around what he read. Five days of making sure he was sober and isolating himself from everyone before he read it over again. He was no longer the King according to the scroll and everyone else it would seem. 

“Do not return to hell for -” Lucifer started to read out loud. 

“6000 years, sounds fair enough. You get to enjoy your lavish lifestyle, you don't have to work or cause trouble. You do you, as you have since the beginning.” A voice – Crawly – the now King apparently said from behind him. Lucifer turned around and found himself oddly levelheaded. Standing not too far from Crawly was the former angel Aziraphale. He wanted to sneer, but he kept his expression neutral. 

“Brought your pet I see.” Lucifer greeted, going for nonchalant but not quite succeeding. 

“Husband actually, there was a wedding. It was quite lovely, held on Earth and celebrated in Hell. But don't distract from the matter at hand. You get to be on Earth without having to worry about ruling Hell. Keeping it in check, so on so forth.” Crawly corrected, a shrug told Lucifer that the scrawny demon expected that sort of thing. 

“And you get to rule Hell.” Lucifer pointed out. 

“Clearly someone has to, that someone wasn't you. Don't come back to Hell, brother. Don't even try. Stay here, play detective. Do what you want. Enjoy your 6000 years.” Crawly spoke, letting a grin slip out as he took his former angel's hand and disappeared from the penthouse with a reminder in the form of a pen on the coffee table for him to sign. The unspoken part, the jab was that he would have to watch his companions die of old age if they were lucky to die of old age. The 6000 years definitely intentionally brought up and for once, Lucifer was left speechless and confused on what to do now. 

If the demon Crawly was right, then he had nowhere to go besides Earth. 

He couldn't go to Heaven. 

He can't go back to Hell. 

What should he do? 

A near hysteric laugh almost broke free. For once, he wanted to trash his penthouse and burn his club down.


	6. Chapter 6

In the days that came Lucifer had to clean up his penthouse after he did cave and trashed the place, torn the books and smashed the bottles as he drank them and destroyed his piano and any gift he's been given over the years of visiting Earth and living here full time. He knew he worried his companions both human and otherwise. He didn't tell them, especially Mazikeen who once upon a time had dreams of going back to Hell. The Detective was worried, often visiting or trying to call him despite her cold. Linda was as well, constantly making herself available to him. All of them seemingly sensing something was wrong. 

It would be Amenadiel who got through first. Coming with the question he's been asking himself for days now, “What are you going to do about this?” Of course, his angelic brother was so sure that he should fight for his throne back and not stand for this severe betrayal. Lucifer was forced to admit that the Princes did, in fact, ask for him to return, and he didn't. Amenadiel wasn't too fond of finding that out because he went from telling Lucifer he should fight for it to he should have listened. Which naturally started a fight that only caused more damage to his already severely damaged Penthouse. 

“I will go speak with the new King, see if he could be lenient to you.” Amenadiel said after Lucifer finally explained everything that was present in that letter that he only signed a day ago before burning. It only gained a disdainful scoff from him, like talking to that slithering shit would do a thing. While Amenadiel was gone, Lucifer found himself tempted to pray. But for what? With another scoff, he cleaned himself up and drove to the detective's house. The urchin would be at school, and he knew she would be at home today thanks to a sick day. And Mazikeen would no doubt be there, despite how tough she liked to act she was protective of those she considered her friends. And Mazikeen in her own way would be trying to assist Chloe in getting better. 

As he anticipated he was invited in, it didn't take long for him to cave and tell them what happened. Only he made things sound far worse in regards to who took over as King. Mazikeen helped given the fact that she had a severe dislike for Crawly as well, one born out of the two of them antagonizing each other for many years and animosity from Crawly being threatened with a visit from her for failing every now and again while successfully getting out of being punished time and time again. She immediately went to go fetch her knives making gruesome threats under her breath that was enough to cause the detective to wince. 

“I'm sure if you just ta-” She tried to reason, but no doubt realizing how empty her own words sounded as she wasn't surprised when the unavoidable interruption came. 

“I can't Detective, I'm not allowed to go back to Hell.” Lucifer was almost proud of himself for not snapping at her, he wanted to though. Wanted to get it through her skull that he was trapped. Now that he had no choice but to be on Earth it didn't look so tempting, which was almost funny in a messed up way. He won't ever verbally admit to that. He couldn't. 

“We'll think of something.” What could she come up with, she was only human. But the gesture and support was beyond appreciated. He could melt at her feet for it. Eventually, she asked about who was on the thrown and he told her who it was. The original tempter of Eve, the one who meddled in human history and a traitor. Of course, he exaggerated a lot of things. But he never lied, it was a point of pride for him. He just made it sound worse, he didn't tell her how he never openly harmed anyone unless he absolutely had to. Never sought out to do cruel things for the sake of cruelty. 

How odd was it to have a King who wasn't openly cruel as the new leader of Hell? 

He didn't notice that Mazikeen left the house with her knives and threats uttered. 

It would be a week later that he discovers what she tried to do. A week filled with him sulking to his companions. Was he touched at what she tried to do, yes. But did he approve of it, no. But he couldn't bring himself to verbally reprimand her as he found her sulking in a bar as she simmered in her anger and humiliation. She couldn't get past the gate. As he sat and listened to her recounting what she saw and how she was forced to return to Earth he wasn't aware of the fact that his detective used a night when Trixie was at her Father's to openly pray and not to his Father. 

“He's making a lot of changes Lucifer and I don't know what to think about it.” Mazikeen finally said, setting her now empty drink down on the table with the other glasses. 

“Not only in Hell. But how Hell as a whole deals with outside forces such as Earth and even Heaven.” Lucifer turned to see Amenadiel who looked torn but possibly not for what Lucifer was torn about. 

~*~

Aziraphale would have never anticipated in his long life that someone would be praying to him, especially now that he's fallen and technically shouldn't even be called Aziraphale anymore. But there he was, sitting at a desk not too far from Crowley's desk tipping his ear up listening to a rather uncomfortable prayer asking to meet with him. Crowley who couldn't hear the prayer as it wasn't for him looked to him with curious concern. Once it was finished, Aziraphale stood and approached his husband to explain. 

“And you plan to go to her?” Crowley didn't sound like he liked that idea. 

“I think it might be for the best, my dear. The poor thing sounds awfully confused and to be honest with you I'm not entirely pleased with how your name has been slandered so maliciously.” Aziraphale explained and although he knew that Crowley wouldn't really care how his name was being slandered as it wouldn't be the first time, Aziraphale did care. It took a bit of coaxing before Crowley agreed to let Aziraphale go without an escort. It was apparent that Crowley didn't trust anyone in cahoots with the devil – former King of Hell – human or not. 

With a gentle kiss, Aziraphale left Crowley and within moments he found himself standing before a house that belonged to none other than Detective Chloe Decker. He could have easily found himself before her, but that would have been awfully rude and despite him being a demon now there was no need to be tastelessly rude. Although he will admit to himself he's awfully tempting at times, however, the worst he's done so far was stare down the Duke as he pushed paperwork off his desk. He still doesn't know why he did that, but he did. 

With a sigh and a moment to straighten his clothing, a lovely frock coat with a high-fastening waistcoat with a lovely creme coloured shirt underneath. He forwent a tie as it didn't seem entirely fitting for the look he was going for. Dark greys that could nearly be black and dark blues was his normal colours now. He did miss the tartan pattern's but that was what his bedtime attire was for. 

Approaching the door, he knocked and waited patiently for the door to be answered. It didn't take too long and he watched as she was taken aback by his appearance no doubt outdated, it would be his eyes that would have caused her a moment of concern. Feline and not hidden as he regarded her coolly. With a gentle smile he greeted her, “Hello Detective Decker, my name is Aziraphale. Might I come in so we can talk?” He knows she knew who he was right at that moment, after all, she prayed to him. She seemed genuinely shocked though like she didn't expect an answer. And normally, you don't always get personal visits from anyone you pray to. 

She seemed to catch herself, inviting him in although cautiously. He noticed she had her gun on her, although that wouldn't really kill him it could very well discorporate him. Getting a new body would be a bit of a wait, or perhaps not given who he's married to. But regardless, it was a situation he didn't want to deal with. Especially the paperwork. Aziraphale didn't like paperwork when he was an angel and he likes paperwork even less now. 

He followed her and sat at her table, turning down what she thought of as tea and coffee. He's had better, but he wasn't about to be rude about it. He settled for a glass of water, she seemed pleased enough as she poured herself water as well. 

“You have questions.” Aziraphale finally started, and she did. Her prayer made that clear to him. And he quickly discovered that she was a very good detective and knew exactly how to ask questions and watch for reactions. She also was blunt and waste time on meaningless questions. Aziraphale could respect that. 

“My dear, you have to understand that he was offered his throne. The Seven Princes of Hell approached Lucifer and requested his return, no one forced him to return nor was he forced to vacate a throne he had little interest in sitting in.” Aziraphale explained, of course, there were finer details that could be said but none of which were deemed needed. She seemed shocked by this but one she didn't let stall her in moving on and questioning Aziraphale further. 

“They can do that, just pick another King? That's allowed?” Detective Decker asked and Aziraphale sipped the water wishing he had the water from Eden once more, it tasted better than what he was drinking now. Even the water a hundred years ago tasted better. 

“Normally, it would take a long time to go over the paperwork. But Hell was in a state of disorder and none of the Dukes could take over as it would leave an empty space there. None of the Princes could take over, although a few no doubt wanted to – because again there would be an empty space left behind. It was far easier to find someone of equal value in rank and rights to fill the space left by Lucifer when he came to Earth to live instead of remaining in Hell.” Aziraphale explained wondering if this would have been a moment where Crowley would feel the need to shush him. He added as an afterthought, “Crowley was the last option the felt they had after Lucifer refused his responsibilities.” 

He must have created an opening for her because the next series of questions was about Crowley himself. And Aziraphale had to restrain himself because it was completely maddening to hear his love being slandered so recklessly. Flowers that were set on the table wilted under Aziraphale's souring mood. 

“Detective.” A sharp interruption to her questions, not intended to be as sharp but there was hardly anything he could do about that now as he continued, “Crowley is perhaps the most approachable demons out there, he has never harmed a human for the sake of cruelty and when he tempts it was nothing more than opening a door and giving the human an opportunity to be good or bad. Free will comes into play here. I know Lucifer has said things, filled your head with some rather unsavoury ideas about Crowley's person. I am truly sorry you won't get to meet him and see for yourself that he's not an evil person. A bit grumpy at times, but after a lifetime of what he's gone through as a demon it's understandable. He helped stop the Apocalypse for the sake of stopping the Apocalypse and saving everyone. He wanted to do so even before I did back when I was an angel.” 

Aziraphale didn't know if that would help her or help Crowley's image. But it was the truth. 

There was more conversation between the two, he answered her questions as best that he could. But eventually, he had to call it a night and let her do what she wanted with the information he parted with. In the long run, what he told her wouldn't really change how things were now. But it could put some things into perspective and that was enough. At one time, he would have parted with a blessing but that was something he was no longer exceptionally skilled at being that he was a demon now. So he simply left her with well-wishes.

**Author's Note:**

> We'll be visiting Lux next chapter.


End file.
